


Tame

by penny



Series: FMA - Bad Guys Win [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: no_true_pair, D/s, F/M, not ssc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-02
Updated: 2009-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archer cements his hold on Winry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tame

**Author's Note:**

> For 0TP prompt _Winry Rockbell/Frank Archer, dominance/submission_

Colonel Archer makes her nervous, more nervous than his alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Kimberly. The lieutenant colonel, at least, follows his orders, abides by the terms of their agreement. He doesn't use his alchemy, and because Colonel Archer ordered him to stay out from underfoot, he doesn't harass her, Granny, Al, or Rose.

He probably harasses Doctor Jennings, but Winry can't spend too much sympathy for him. She saw the confusion in Central after the Fuehrer was killed. She saw soldiers fighting against those loyal to the Fuehrer. If Doctor Jennings was a good man, he'd have sided with...well, with the right people, not Colonel Archer.

Colonel Archer is awake when she comes into the workroom. He's always awake. Winry doesn't think he sleeps, though the rational part of her knows that's silly. Of course he sleeps. Just less than her. She hasn't gotten to open up his head, explore that ear and eye, but she's sure he hears every sound in the house. He probably wakes up when he hears someone in the hall outside the workroom.

"There are beds upstairs. We can move you." It's the same thing she says every morning. She can't bring herself to greet him, but the cot in the workroom is uncomfortable. She's spent enough nights on it to know just how uncomfortable, and even though Colonel Archer isn't really a guest, she still feels like a bad hostess.

"I doubt you and your grandmother want to carry me down here every morning." It's the same reply he always gives her. His mechanical voice doesn't carry much emotion -- and oh, how she'd love to open up his throat again and see how the voice box works, but Colonel Archer had only let her fix the gears controlling the gun in his throat -- but Winry thinks he sounds amused.

Normally, that's the end of their exchange. Normally, she sets the tray with his juice and oatmeal down, helps him sit up, and then hurries over to her workbench so she doesn't have to watch him eat. She can tell by the arrhythmic scrape of the spoon in the bowl that it's a challenge, but he never asks for help, and the one time she offered -- manners aren't something reserved solely for friends and respectable people -- he had refused, and the way he narrowed his real eye stopped her from offering again.

But this morning, she's in an odd mood. Rebellious. A little stupid. So when she sets the tray down, she says, "That's why we're allowing your doctor and alchemist to stay. They can carry you down."

He moves surprisingly fast, grabbing her coveralls where the sleeves are knotted over her navel. His knuckles graze her stomach, and Winry doesn't like the way it makes her skin tingle. She doesn't like him, just likes the challenge of his automail.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I'm helpless just because you have my good limbs splayed out on your workbench."

Ah, but he is. She has better leverage, can easily break free from his grip. And even if he were whole, she knows the weaknesses of his arm and leg. The realization slices through Winry and makes her bold. "Yes, I'm sure you're telepathically linked to Lieutenant Colonel Kimberly. Why, right now, I'm sure he's coming to rescue you from me."

He tightens his grip on her coveralls and jerks her closer. Winry stumbles and doesn't like the way her stomach lurches. It's the same feeling she gets whenever Ed comes back, and the colonel is nothing -- nothing -- like Ed.

"Behave, Miss Rockbell. If you're naughty, I won't let you examine my eye."

There's a whir behind his automail eye. Winry winces because it sounds awful. Something's not working right in there, and she's itching to fix it. And Colonel Archer knows it.

"I should be done with your leg today."

"Ahead of schedule. Impressive."

She narrows her eyes. "Behave, Colonel Archer. If you mock me --"

He laughs. "Please, Miss Rockbell. We both know there's no threat you can make to trump mine." He releases her. "Now, I believe I've kept you from your work long enough."

Her hands are shaking when she sets out her tools. From anger, she tells herself, but the warm flutter low in her belly doesn't feel like anger. She refuses to acknowledge it for what it is.

* * *

 

She finishes with the leg before dinner. Colonel Archer insists that she install it, even though she warns him it will hurt and probably ruin his appetite. That makes him narrow his real eye, and she knows that look. It's the same look Ed gives her every time she warns him how attaching the automail will feel.

She's not gentle with the reattachment. Colonel Archer doesn't make a sound, but he does curl his real hand into a fist, and his face -- the flesh half, anyway -- is drawn tight.

"Thank you, Miss Rockbell."

Winry doesn't meet his eyes as she stands. "We're having stew." Then, after a pause, "We have a spare arm you can use."

He rose. "I prefer my own limbs." He looked as he tested the joints of his leg, its heft. "It feels lighter."

"Your previous mechanic put a lot of unnecessary junk in there. I tightened up the fittings and made room for some secondary wiring and joints in case the primaries fail." She turns away, her face hot. She shouldn't take so much pride in making him a more efficient and more durable soldier. She can't forget -- or shouldn't forget, anyway -- what kind of person he is, but she also can't resist taking pride in her work. She has made him better, gave him better balance, enough redundancies that he can take more damage before his automail fails.

"I see." He takes a couple of steps, makes a satisfied sound. "I look forward to seeing what you do with my arm."

She bites down on her lower lip. She's frightened to tackle his arm. There are so many things she can do to improve the arm itself and the rifle, and that's just with her rudimentary weaponry knowledge. She shouldn't find the challenge so exciting, but she does.

She's the one without an appetite at dinner. She spends most of the night working on the schematics for Colonel Archer's arm and tries to ignore the pleasant tingle low in her belly and the feeling she's betraying Ed.

* * *

 

Colonel Archer likes her design for his arm, especially her plan for his rifle. It will be more sleek and streamlined than the previous version, more fitting, according to her note the margins of her design, for a dress uniform. She suspects the note is what sways the colonel over to her design.

She's relieved to find she can still forget Archer's watching her when she works. His arm is a challenge. It takes her three days to make the casing, three to set gears and wiring for the rifle, and another two days to get all the pneumatics working in the wrist and shoulder. Her own shoulders are screaming at her by the time she's done, and she can feel a knot beneath her right shoulder blade.

Winry rolls her neck, sighing when it pops. She blinks at sunlight streaming in through the window, bleary-eyed, then horrified. She only works through the night for Ed, but now...

"Finished already, Miss Rockbell?"

Winry startles. He's at her shoulder staring down at his automail arm. She can only see the automail half of his face, so she can't make out his expression. She wonders if it's possible to construct an automail mask capable of expressions. The face has so many muscles. The connections...there would just be too many for full range of motion, but perhaps it's possible to craft something capable of basic movements.

He reaches down and traces the casing with his fingers. "Very nice work, Miss Rockbell."

The praise hits her a little too hard. It's the fatigue, she tells herself. It's making her weak, and the fact this is some of her best work, well, that's not helping.

"I will need a mechanic in Central."

She looks down at the arm. It's not some of her best work. It is her best work. And her best work is supposed to be for Ed. "I can recommend some people from Rush Valley."

He shifts so he's standing immediately behind her. Too close. If he had a normal face, his breath would tickle her ear. When he speaks, his mechanical voice makes the inside of her ear itch. "You will have access to the most current research and the best tools and materials. I will make sure you are challenged, Miss Rockbell, so you can provide the best automail, not only for me but for the Fullmetal Alchemist."

She goes snake-still. Ed. Of course he'd use Ed to snare her. She's been too transparent, too honest with Lieutenant Colonel Kimberly. It's the same as being too honest with Colonel Archer. The lieutenant colonel is...very good at following orders.

"I would rather not resort to threats. I believe Crimson gave you the impression the Elric brothers would not be my concern, and they won't be if I do not need to worry about taming a competent automail mechanic."

"Taming?" She knows what he means, but she needs to hear him say it, because if he doesn't, and she goes to Central, gets her workshop, and the challenges he promises, she'll...well, unless he does something horrible, she'll let herself forget what kind of man he is. And then she'll be no good to Ed. Or to Al and Rose and Cain and Granny. Or to herself.

He moves even closer, pressing his automail leg between her thighs. He places his hand on her hip. "Behave, Miss Rockbell, and nobody will ask troublesome questions about young Alphonse Elric."

She reaches down and closes her hands over Colonel Archer's automail arm. The metal is cold and a steadying sensation. "And Edward?"

"Edward Elric can either be considered a loyal State Alchemist or a traitor."

She takes a shaky breath. "Ed isn't a traitor."

"Convince me of that, Miss Rockbell."

"How?" She tightens her grip on the automail. The casing is solid, the arm thick enough that her fingers don't close all the way around it. "I don't have evidence."

He leans over her, and her choices are fight or bend over the workbench. She bends. She could slip away from him. Without his automail arm, Colonel Archer is off balance, but because of Ed and Al and everyone else, he has better leverage.

The ridges in his automail arm dig into her palm. He has better leverage, but she's not powerless. She knows the weaknesses of his automail, and that means she knows his weaknesses. Winry knows enough about Colonel Archer to know he's a man defined by his power, that his automail is his power.

And that leg now pressing firmly between her legs? It's her handiwork, just like the arm under her palms. _She's_ the source of his power. She wonders if he knows that.

Winry almost laughs. Of course he knows. He wouldn't be trying to tame her otherwise.

Colonel Archer slides his hand along the curve of her hip, works loose the knot of her coverall arms cinched around her waist. She tries not to flinch when he unfastens her coverall's snaps, cups her mound through her panties. Her body can't decide if it's in league with her brain or a traitorous thing. Her throat is dry, and the spike in her pulse could be fear, but it also could be in response to...well, she's not used to being touched like this. She can't deny the warm lust unfurling low in her belly.

Acknowledging that makes her blush. Winry wonders how well the colonel's automail eye is working. Can he see the blood rising to her skin, the wet heat in her cunt?

"Very good, Miss Rockbell."

The...praise? Is she actually thinking of it as praise? Yes, she is.

The praise shouldn't make her knees go all watery, but it does, and she has to bite down on a tiny whimper when Colonel Archer removes his hand from her mound. She doesn't really want this. She wants Ed and Al safe, and this is, apparently, the only way to secure their safety.

He stays pressed against her, so she can feel him unfastening his pants. Winry bits harder on her lip, this time to stop a hysterical little giggle. She had been wondering how far his automail extended. Based on what she had seen, it's entirely possible his reconstruction required an automail penis, and the mechanic -- just the mechanic -- in her wouldn't mind getting her hands on it.

He pushes her panties aside, and Winry's disappointed to feel flesh between her folds. Well, that's probably for the best. Given what she's seen of the military automail mechanics, there would have been serious flaws in their design.

Then he pushes inside her, and Winry doesn't have time for any spare thoughts. Ed, she's doing this for Ed. And Al and Rose and Cain and Granny. They're worth any pain -- and really, what's this compared to what Ed and Al have gone through? -- only it doesn't really hurt after the first few strokes. It's uncomfortable, and there's a bit of a lingering burn, but the sharp pain is gone.

And it's starting to feel good. His hand is back on her hip, fingers digging in hard enough that Winry's sure she'll have bruises. She's clutching the automail arm hard enough to turn her knuckles white. That's really not fair. This should hurt. She shouldn't be wet for this, shouldn't be clenching around him, shouldn't be whimpering and lining herself up with his trusts.

But her body's doing all that and she can't deny that she could enjoy this if she wanted to. And it's tempting to, because if she's honest with herself, this isn't the only time Colonel Archer will do this to her. He'll keep doing this until she really is tame, and that's...that's a terrifying and thrilling prospect.

Can he tame her? Truly? She has Ed and Al and Rose and Cain and Granny and so many others to help her stay strong. What does he have? His automail? His alchemist? His ambition?

It's not enough. She's stronger. Winry loosens her grip on his automail arm. She's the one with the power.

That knowledge is reassuring. It strums through her along with the physical pleasure. Winry reaches for both, lets them mingle and build until she can come if she wants to. And then she lets herself go past that point so she can't stop herself.

She comes. Colonel Archer rides her through it. Then he comes, and for a moment, Winry feels weak. Helpless. He's made her submit and had made her choose to enjoy herself. But then she remembers why.

She takes a moment to catch her breath. "Let me fix your eye." She licks her lips, lets the metal of his automail arm supplement her own strength. She can play tame until it's the right time to exercise her power. "Sir."

Colonel Archer makes a satisfied noise. "Later, Miss Rockbell." He withdraws from her, loosening his grip on her hip so his touch is almost tender. "Now, you'll attach my arm. I'm sure I will be quite pleased with it."

Of course he will. It's her best work, at least until she makes something better for Ed.


End file.
